Slytherin Glory
by TheNewFrontier
Summary: Ian Finnigan realizes there is more to Slytherin than the Dark Arts. But can he manage to stop the growing menace within Hogwarts' walls before it's too late?
1. Prologue

A/N: I know this prologue is short, it's just a teaser to see if my style of writing is good enough for me to continue on with the story. Please read and review, I would appreciate any comments on my writing, obviously, or I wouldn't be here. I'm uploading the first chapter along with this, to make up for the short length.

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His long, black robes and tall, pointed hat set him apart from the other shoppers on the crowded street, who were for the most part wearing informal clothing, even if they were wizards. But even more peculiar was the way he walked. While the other shoppers were rushing to and fro, pushing and shoving, he walked with a dignified purpose, never seeming to run into anybody, his elongated frame poking his head above that of most people.

The same, however, could not be said for the man following him. Short and rather large around the waist, the bald man seemed to be running into every single person in the vicinity.

"Professor!" He shouted to the taller man walking ahead. "I'm sure that if we could just-"

He stopped in mid sentence as a group of young children rushed towards Dromycus' Broomstick Boutique across the cobbled stone way.

Undeterred, he continued on after pulling himself up and sprinting to catch his companion.

"Er, as I was saying, Professor. Is it really necessary for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to make a house call to personally visit a potion shop? Surely you could have sent me alone, or at least the Potions Master."

"The reason I am visiting the man is the reason why I cannot send you or the Potion Master. So, in this case, Sergius," The Headmaster replied without turning around to face the man accompanying him. "I think it is completely necessary. Ah, here we are!" He exclaimed, pulling his arm from his cloak and knocking sharply on the door of a tall, brick building before pushing it open, not waiting for an answer.

Behind the counter sat a thin man with long grey hair who seemed thoroughly engrossed in a thick, old looking book written in ancient runes.

"Ahem." The Headmaster coughed as Sergius busied himself by browsing an aisle filled with magical herbs. Truth be told, he was rather afraid of the potioneer, even if he was no taller than Sergius himself.

The man looked up and gave a start at the sight of the Professor standing there, much like any other shopper, except that he was quite obviously not just an ordinary shopper.

"Professor Waldemar, how nice to see you," he said, rising to greet him. The Headmaster did not notice the tone of voice used to display the proprietor's 'pleasure' in seeing him. Perhaps this meeting would not go as well as he had hoped. "What may I do for you?"

"Actually Doolish, I have come to ask you a question. Your store is one of the most successful ingredient suppliers in Britain, so I would imagine you know a good many excellent potion makers."

"Ah, indeed I do, indeed I do. Do you need a specific potion brewed up then, for the school?" Doolish inquired, standing on a stool so as to look directly into the Headmaster's eyes.

"Actually, no. I am in need of a Potion Master for the School, Bassano has decided to take his leave from my school, and I'm afraid he's left us in the lurch," Waldemar answered, his eyes perusing the array of potion ingredients displayed on the counter.

The potioneer didn't stop to think, even for a moment. With a smile he replied to Waldemar quickly. "I know just the person. Graden Bones was in here just the other day, asking if I could find him a job."

"Oh, really?" Waldemar asked, his eyebrows raised in an arch.

"Here, let me give you his address. He's renting an attic room in Hogsmeade, I'm sure he would be more than pleased to accept the position.

"And he is an experienced potion maker?"

"He is of the best I know, Professor."

"Alright then, I shall look into it. Thank you, Doolish," Waldemar said, accepting the parchment with Bones' address scrawled across it.

"Come on now, Sergius. We must be off, I have other business on Diagon Alley."

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A/N: Read, review, read the next chapter, review, and you're done!


	2. Owl Escape Artist

"IAN NIGEL FINNEGAN!" A loud voice cried over the shouting and talking of King's Cross Station, Platform 9 3/4. "GET BACK HERE THIS MINUTE!"

Suddenly the owner of the voice ran through a crowd of people, knocking half of them onto their bottoms without as little as an "excuse me".

The person in question was none other than Louise Finnegan, and she was stampeding through the crowd of people on the Platform like a rhinoceros on a rampage.

"Sorry mum!" Ian replied, sprinting across the walkway beside the tracks. His brown hair was rather long and thick, and it was flopping all over the place. "I just have to catch my owl!"

"YOU LET IT OUT?" His mother screamed, her face turning as red as the dress robes she had worn to see her son off for his first year at Hogwarts School.

"_Accio owl!_" A deep voice muttered, and the small white owl gave a short squawk before zooming towards the outstretched hands of Ian's father, Nigel.

"Oh, thanks Dad," Ian said, his playful grin quickly disappearing, replaced by a somber expression. The great red train with gold lettering along the side, spelling out "Hogwarts Express" was beginning to ring it's horn, and the crowd thinned as students swarmed onto it.

"Don't let it out of its cage again, do you here me?" His father said, his voice low but the seriousness was not lost on his young son. Even though it was a whisper, the train's noise did nothing to diminish its power.

"Yes Dad, sorry Dad."

"Alright then. Now get on the train, or you'll miss it. And I bloody well don't want to have to deal with this for an extra year." Dad said, but this time Ian would have sworn he saw a grin on his face.

"Bye!"

"Don't get into trouble! You know they're strict there, they'll throw you out."

"Yes Mom…"

Ian clambered onto the Hogwarts Express along with the last few stragglers as the train pulled out of King's Cross Station, and his attention turned to finding a compartment. Before when he had taken the train, he'd been with his parents and a compartment had been booked especially for them, he hadn't had to look for one with room. What if he couldn't find one?

"Hello." A voice said to him, and Ian turned around to face a blond boy about his own age, with thick eyebrows and blue eyes. He was not wearing his Hogwarts robes already, as Ian was, but rather he was wearing the colours of the Wigtown Wanderers. "I don't suppose you've found a compartment?"

"Just got on, actually," Ian replied, looking the boy up and down. He was at least an inch taller than himself, but he didn't look very menacing. His bushy eyebrows and wide mouth gave an impression of friendliness, or good humour. "I'm Ian, by the way." He said, stretching his hand to shake. Too late he noticed it was rather smelly from handling his owl, but it was too late to help that now.

The other boy seemed surprised at this turn of events, but eagerly shook Owen's hand. "I'm Dirk. Dirk Hatherford."

As Ian took back his hand it felt as if his arm was about to fall off. Dirk was far stronger than he looked.

Together the two boys set off in search of a compartment, if only because neither knew anyone else on the train.

After a minute or so they came to a compartment with one empty seat, the rest of it seemed to be filled by fellow First Years.

"You take it Ian, I'll find another seat." Dirk offered.

"Are you sure?" Ian replied. After all, he was the only person on the train who Ian knew the name of, and even though he seemed a little bit odd, he didn't want to abandon his potential friend. At the same time, he didn't want to be considered odd by association.

"Yeah, totally. I'll see you later Ian."

Ian slipped into the compartment as Dirk trundled off down the train, looking for another compartment with space.

As Ian sat down in the compartment, he looked at the other three who seemed to have been having a conversation but had stopped when the newcomer entered the compartment.

"Eh, hello." He said, glancing around the compartment. Two boys and a girl filled the seats, and unlike Dirk they were all dressed in their Hogwarts robes already.

"Hi!" The girl was first to speak, giving Ian a small smile. "First year too?"

"Oh, yeah, I am. Name's Ian."

"I'm Nicola," the girl told him, smiling again. Ian got the feeling she was sorry for him. "And that's Ethan McCubbin," she explained, pointing at a bespectacled boy beside the window, with brown hair and freckles. "And that's Liam Kevin." Motioning to a tall, lanky boy with black hair down to his shoulders.

Ethan muttered something about how he was pleased to see Ian, but his eyes stayed glued to the window, Liam gave a small wave.

"We were just talking about the houses." Nicola said, "I hope I'm in Hufflepuff, my entire family has been so far."

Slowly the Hogsmeade Station came into view, and Ian heard people in other compartments hurriedly changing into their Hogwarts uniforms. Since the rest of the people in his compartment were already dressed, they kept talking.

"I'll be in Gryffindor, myself." Liam said. " That's wear my dad was. Of course, my mother never went to Hogwarts, she's a muggle."

"What about you Ian?" Nicola asked, giving him her sympathetic smile yet again.

"Well, my parents were both sorted into Ravenclaw, but my Uncle Troy was in Hufflepuff, and both my aunts were Slytherins," He said. "So I don't really think it'll matter to my family wear I go."

They continued talking about houses for a couple of minutes, without Ethan ever joining in the conversation. In the middle of it a smart looking woman pushing a trolley filled with snacks poked her head through the door, but nobody bought anything.

Several minutes later the train came to a stop quickly, with a squeal from the wheels locking on the tracks. Looking out his window, Ian saw a short, fat man holding a lantern above his head. As he climbed off of the train he looked around for his trunk and his owl, but he couldn't find them.

"Looking for your stuff, then?" A voice asked, and Ian turned around to see an older boy wearing a dark blue pin with a large letter 'P' on it.

"Er, yeah, I am. Where'd they put it?"

"Don't worry about it, they put it all in your dormitories before you got to sleep tonight," The older boy explained. "See you at the feast!"

Ian quickly realized that this delay had put him behind the rest of the First Years. He saw a group of them walking down the lane a few dozen meters ahead of him, and he had to sprint to catch up.

After a short walk down the dirt path they came to a lake, with dozens and dozens of small rowboats lined up on the bank. They were made of wood, and Ian noticed that they were filling up quickly. He pushed through the crowd and slid into the back seat of a boat that was just pushing off, rowed by two rather small girls that he remembered seeing before...somewhere…

"Hey!" One of them exclaimed in a light voice that reminded him even more… but who…. "Why aren't you rowing?"

"I, er, sorry." Ian said, beginning to protest but thinking better of it. They were both far smaller than him anyways, it wasn't really fair. He took the left oar and began to paddle in time with the girl on his right, but quickly saw that this was rather pointless, as they were merely going in neat little circles.

"Oh, here, give me that." Sighed the girl whose oar he had taken. As she slid back into the front bench Ian realized where he had seen the two girls before. They were neighbours of his cousin Nora; she'd be coming to Hogwarts the year after next. But what were their names?

Suddenly he forgot all about their names, at least for the moment. Hogwarts Castle had just come into view, and it was a magnificent view indeed. The towers were great, stone spires reaching towards the heavens, blocking out whole patches of stars. It was easily the largest building Ian had ever seen, with walls that must have been a hundred meters high at least.

His thoughts of the castle's size were interrrupted by a shout from the front of the pack of boats. Judging by the deepness of the voice, it must have been the man who was leading them to Hogwarts.

"Alright then, students. Here we are. Be sure not to fall into the water then." The man said, and judging by his tone of voice Ian imagined this was something that had happened before.

As they filed onto land Ian once again tried to recall the names of his boat mates, but it was impossible. And either way, they had darted into the crowd and he'd lost them.

As the First Years hiked towards the castle he was still amazed by what it looked like, and by the open mouths and wide eyes of his soon-to-be class mates, he wasn't the only one.

After several minutes of walking and staring they came to a wide door that looked like it would need a giant to push open. Once again their guide spoke.

"Alright boys and girls, once you're in here Professor Worme will tell you what to do. I'm sure you'll see me again; I'm caretaker of the Castle and groundskeeper for the land surrounding it. Keep out of trouble, now."

He then pulled a wand from his jacket, flicked it once, and the great doors that Ian had noticed before swung open without being pushed by anyone at all, much less a giant.

He was pushed forward by the surge of First Years making their way into the Entrance Hall, where they met a wizard quite the opposite of the caretaker. Where he had been short and rather round, this man was over six feet and rather thin, and a long, pointed hat made him appear even more so. The wizard was in fact so startling in appearance that at first, Ian completely ignored his surroundings.

"Hello, students." He said in a tone of voice that was neither friendly nor cold, but it did seem to Ian as if Professor Worme felt it beneath him to be greeting First Years in the Entrance Hall.

"If you will all fallow me, then," He said, and led them off to a chamber just off from the Entrance Hall. As they were filtering in through the small door that allowed only one person to enter at a time, Ian quickly glanced back at the Hall. It was huge, far larger than his home in Dubbinshire. Torches bolted to the wall gave light to the entire room, although Ian could not see clear to the ceiling. Two great staircases, which seemed to be made of marble, spiraled to the higher levels.

As they sat down in the chamber, Professor Worme took a deep breath as if he was about to begin a speech. Which, Ian soon realized, he was.


	3. The Sorting

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but this is as much as I wanted to put in it, and I feel like fleshing out what I've already got would overfill it. So you'll just have to wait for the next update! Ha!

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"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the premier place of learning for wizards and witches in Europe." Professor Worme began, looking critically up and down each student as he spoke. "This will be your home during the school year for the next seven years of your life, provided you are not expelled, killed, or you choose to leave."

Ian heard several gasps when the Professor mentioned being killed.

"Before you may sit down for the feast with the rest of the students you will be Sorted, although I am sure many of you already know that. For those of you who are not of wizarding stock, I will explain.

"There are four Houses in Hogwarts, and each one has it's own ideals which it values. Many successful witches and wizards have come out of every House, and I expect all of you to aspire to do your house proud."

The tall wizard continued. "The four Houses are named after the school's four founders. Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin," When he said Slytherin Worme's voice sounded proud, Ian noticed. He decided that Worme must have attended school as a Slytherin. "Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw. Throughout the school year, all your good deeds will gain points for your house, while breaking rules will lose it points. Whichever of the four houses has the most points at the end of the year will be given a House Cup, and that house will be honoured by having it's colours decorating the Great Hall for the next year.

"I am going to alert the Headmaster that you are ready to begin the Sorting, and I will return for you shortly. After you have been sorted you will sit with your house."

As Professor Worme left the Chamber, Ian could not help but noticed that he did in fact look like a worm, long and skinny.

The rest of the students busied themselves by trying to become more presentable, and Ian saw his long haired compartment-mate Liam pull his black hair into a pony tail.

Before he even had a chance to check his shoes' buckles, Worme had returned, and beckoned them all through the door he had disappeared out of earlier. In a single file line they filtered through it, and when Ian made it out the door the Great Hall amazed him.

It was nearly as large as the Entrance Hall had been, and had great long tables filled with older students and covered with sparkling silverware, plates and goblets. He looked up at the ceiling, but to his surprise there was none. There were thousands of candlesticks floating in the air above the Hall, illuminating the tables, but no ceiling. The walls were draped with yellow and black banners, and some of them said "Hufflepuff" on them. Ian realized they must have won the House Cup the year prior.

His eyes moved to the front of the Hall, where a fifth, smaller table sat perpendicular to the others. Along it sat just over a dozen teachers, a mixture of wizards and witches, short and tall, and old and young.

In the middle of the hall sat a pointed hat with a wide brim, the sort Ian's grandfather had worn. The SORTING HAT, Ian realized with a jolt. His father had told him all about it. It read your mind, and decided which house you would be in.

Then it talked.

His father had never told him about this, Ian thought. He'd never said the hat would talk. Well, sing. It seemed to be singing, actually.

But rather than thinking about all of that, Ian decided to pay attention. Maybe the song would help him know which house he should be in.

I may not be your average hat

And you won't find me in a shop

But I can sing and talk and sort

So when it comes to hats, I'm tops

I can see inside your mind

And read your deepest thoughts

I can tell where you belong

You see, I know quite a lot

The first house is Gryffindor

They're brave and truly strong

They are daring and they are true

Their hearts help them along

Maybe you'll be in Hufflepuff

Maybe you'll be just

With them loyalty

And hard work is a must

The smart ones go to Ravenclaw

Who value things of the head

They think about and analyze

Everything that's said

Finally there's Slytherin

Where cunning is rewarded

They're sly and will do anything

To get what is needed

I'll look deep within your soul

To decide your home

Don't be afraid to try me on

Step right up I know you'll come!

Ian was still thinking about the four houses described in the song, and completely forgot to join into the applause that was enveloping the Hall.

As quickly as it began, however, it stopped, as Professor Worme strode out to beside the hat and pulled out a long piece of parchment. "Come forward and put on the hat as I call your name," he commanded.

"Allan, Abraham." He said, and a boy at least a head shorter than Ian walked towards the hat, his shoulders shaking. He carefully slid the hat on his head and after a few seconds of standing there, the hat proclaimed his house in a loud voice.

"GRYFFINDOR!" It wailed, and the table closest to the First Years erupted into cheers, clapping their hands and encouraging Abraham as he came to the table. He didn't look nearly as scared now as he did before.

Next was "Avery, Georgina", who was sorted into Slytherin, amid cheers from the table on the far side of the Hall.

The next two students were sorted into Gryffindor as well, until "Dawkins, Deryck" was sent to Hufflepuff.

Next was the second Slytherin, and then "Dylan, Suzette" was the first Ravenclaw. She ran towards the table beside the Slytherins. At the Ravenclaw table Ian noticed the older boy who had explained his missing trunk when he got off. He was sitting at the far end of the bench, and Ian realized that his "P" badge marked him as a Prefect.

Right after "Finch, Kalan" was sorted into Gryffindor, Ian was called forward. At first he didn't recognize his own name, but he managed to start towards the hat before Worme had to repeat his name as he had done for "Dinning, Bradley".

He pulled the hat onto his head and immediately heard the hat speaking to him. 'It never spoke to the other students!' he thought after the hat gave it's first "Hmmmmm…".

"Relax," said the hat. "This is inside your own mind, nobody else can hear it."

Ian gave a big gulp and listened to the hat. He could feel cold sweat dripping down his back as the names of the four houses slipped in and out of his mind. Gryffindor…Hufflepuff…Ravenclaw…Slytherin…

"Yes, you seem to be smart, and daring. I can see that you want to do well, very well. Oh yes, a very interested mind. You aren't a coward, oh no…But neither are you foolhardy. Perhaps… Gryffindor? No, no… Ah, I have it!"

And then, to the whole Hall, it shouted out "SLYTHERIN!"


	4. Slytherin Bound

The table farthest from Ian's fellow First Years gave a few lighthearted cheers and clapped for a few moments as Ian made his way to sit down. Clearly the enthusiasm had worn off after the first few students were sorted into the house.

As he sat down he saw that the Slytherins were wearing green and silver ties and vests underneath their black cloaks. For a fleeting moment he wondered when he would get one, but that thought was stopped short when he saw the girl he met on the train, Nicola, step forward to the hat when Professor Worme called out "Galbert, Nicola".

She stuck the hat on her head and pulled it down to her nose, but nothing happened. She must have sat there for nearly three minutes before the hat finally pronounced her a "SLYTHERIN!"

She looked heartbroken as she sat down the hat and ran off towards the Slytherin table, sitting down beside Ian. She gave one last glance at the Hufflepuffs two tables over before drying her eyes to look at the next students to be sorted. She nervously patted down her smooth brown hair and straightened her robes as "Goslin, Joseph" was sorted into Ravenclaw.

A bony girl sitting on the other side of the table who had blond hair and green eyes, as well as a green Prefect's badge, gave Nicola a reassuring smile.

Meanwhile, Ian jolted at the sound of "Hatherford, Dirk" being called forward to the hat. Even though they had only met once, Ian liked Dirk and secretly hoped he would be sorted into Slytherin. While the older students at the back of the table had already began whispered conversations, he watch as the hat sat on top of the taller boy's head before breaking open just above the brim and shouting "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ian sighed as he watched Dirk jog off to the table on the far side of the Hall. His parents had told him that Gryffindors and Slytherins rarely got along, so he figured that his short-lived friendship with Dirk was probably already over.

A boy on his right nudged Ian, and he turned to see a second year boy wearing the silver and green of Slytherin. "Hello mate." He whispered. "Welcome to Slytherin. I'm Newt Geiger." He said, surreptitiously holding out his hand, which Ian shook.

"Oh, hi. I'm Ian."

Ian's attention then turned to the hat as "Kevin, Liam" was called forward by Professor Worme. While he had no had a terribly fond impression of him on the Hogwarts Express, it would be nice to have the black haired boy in his house; it would be one more person he knew.

The hat had barely touched Liam's head before it called him off to the Gryffindor table, just as Liam had expected. Oh well, thought Ian, at least Nicola is here, and Newt seems friendly.

As the list of First Years went on, everyone in the Hall seemed to be losing interest, even the teachers, who had devolved into whispered conversations just as the students had. Ian had rested his head in his arms, and completely missed the Sorting of his last compartment mate Ethan McCubbin, but noticed him sitting at the end of the far end of Slytherin table as "Zender, Jacob" walked off towards the Ravenclaws.

As Professor Worme flicked his wand and the hat disappeared into nothingness, to gasps from the muggle-borns now seated at the table, a wizard seated in the middle of the staff table stood up and cleared his throat. Ian recognized him as Waldemar, Headmaster of the School. He was one of the more famous living wizards in Britain!

Even so, he dreaded another long speech. All he wanted to do now was eat.

"I would like to welcome back our students who have previously attended Hogwarts School, and to give greetings to our new students. I am sure that you will all do very well here. There are many rules and regulations I would like to impress upon you, but I think you will all pay better attention with full stomachs."

The Headmaster then pulled a longish wand from his robes and flicked it from side to side, causing heaping plates of food to appear up and down the house tables.

Ian's eyes widened as he took in the spread before him. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and a dozen different kinds of puddings… And as he watched his fellow Slytherins dig into the bowls before them and filling their own plates, he noticed that not one of the serving dishes ever seemed to get empty, or even close.

After the first few mouthfuls Ian began to slow down, allowing time to breathe and drink. Now that he wasn't quite so hungry, his mind began to wander beyond the more pressing matters of food.

He'd heard all the rumours, of course, that Slytherins were famous for the Dark Arts. They were sneaky, and devious… and now HE was in Slytherin!

Newt, the other boy sitting next to him, seemed to have read his mind. After swallowing a mouthful of potatoes, he turned to speak. "Aw, don't believe half the stuff you hear about Slytherin House. We're mostly decent folk, we just know how to-" here his sentence was interrupted by downing an entire goblet of pumpkin juice in one go, after which he continued. "-look out for number one!"

This did not entirely put aside Ian's fears, but it did help, at least for the moment. While he was not sure how to respond to the information, he settled for something halfway between nodding his head and giving the thumb's up, and the whole thing must have given the effect that he was choking because he quickly found himself being given the Heimlich Maneuver by a Third Year who had been sitting on the far side of Newt.

"N-no, I'm f-fine!" He managed to splutter before the violent movements caused him to vomit into Newt's lap.

"Blimey, Ian!" He exclaimed. "Thanks for that!"

"Er, sorry." The third year muttered, his face flushing red as the rest of Slytherin table turned to face him.

With a sneer, an older boy several seats down and across the table muttered a spell that Ian was too embarrassed to hear, and the vomit was siphoned away quickly.

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After the entire Hall had eaten their fair share, and more, the Headmaster stood up again to resume his speech from earlier in the evening. His hair glistened in the bright candlelight, and his amethyst eyes twinkled happily, but sharply. He may have been a cordial old man, but he definitely had all his wits about him.

"Now then," he began, his voice ringing out through the room and silencing the last few private conversations taking place at the back of the Hall. "On to the regulations."

"There will be no magic cast in the hallways, nor will there be any magical creatures set lose within them. Anyone caught dueling will be subject to punishment, and any students who value their freedom will not go anywhere near the Forbidden Forest, the lake, or the West Dungeons."

After this Professor Waldemar began listing off a long list of banned substances and items, which Ian soon realized were too many to remember and it would only hurt his head to try.

He snapped to attention, however, when the Headmaster mentioned First Years. He missed the first part of the sentence, but caught the last.

"…Heads of House are the following: Professor Worme of Slytherin, Professor Brill of Ravenclaw, Professor Prince of Hufflepuff and Professor Potts of Gryffindor. Now, I bid thee all a good night, and hope that you are well rested for classes tomorrow."

So that was why Worme had seemed proud of Slytherin House in his welcoming speech. He was their head!

"Alright then, little gits. Follow me." An older boy's voice commanded, and Ian turned to see a tall, heavy-set blond with a Prefect's badge pinned to his chest. His blue eyes darted all around the table, and he looked like he might hit any First Years that didn't do as they were told. "I'll show you to our Dungeons."

"Didn't the Professor say the dungeons were forbidden?" Another first year asked, and as the Prefect turned around to answer with an air of arrogance, Ian was incredibly glad he ahd had the presence of mind not to ask any questions.

"He said the WEST dungeons. OUR dungeons are in the EAST. Now shut up and follow me. Unless you have another stupid question to waste my time with, anyways," he sneered.

The First Year, who Ian saw was the first girl sorted into Slytherin, Georgina Avery, quickly shook her head no and hid her eyes behind her long black hair.

Ian quickly realized he was going to be in for a long seven years. It was a twenty minute walk to get up and down the stairs to the Dungeons he would be living in for the rest of his school life, and then from there he still had to find his class rooms, which looked like a formidable task, what with moving staircases and changing floor plans.

After they finally reached the dormitories, Ian found himself sharing a rather cold room with three other Slytherin First Years, all of which seemed to know each other from previous encounters, and he ended up feeling even more alone than when he'd gotten to the school.

With a sigh he heaved himself onto a four-poster bed covered with green and silver Slytherin sheets, and buried his face in a large, feather pillow. Hopefully things would look better in the morning.


	5. Minerva

Professor Waldemar sat back in his office chair, allowing his mind to wander as he looked out over the Hogwarts grounds. The lake was glistening with reflected moonlight, and the Headmaster smiled as he saw the Giant Squid thrust a long tentacle out of its glassy surface and ensnare a pixy that had foolishly flown too low over the lake.

Behind him a cordial voice cleared its throat to get the Professors' attention, and he turned around to see that one of the school's former Headmasters had something to tell him. A warning, perhaps? Or advice? Waldemar has long since resigned himself to the fact that the portraits had far more experience and far more wisdom than he could hope to find within his own mind, even if he had been in Ravenclaw.

"Yes, Minerva?" He asked, beaming. Minerva's was one of his favourite portraits, and had taken to it as a close friend and confidante. Nevertheless, she had no problem addressing any problems she saw in his leadership. She may have been a Gryffindor, but her mind was sharp as a whip, there was no doubting that fact.

"I still think you have made a grave mistake, Micah," she cautioned, her voice like that of a mother reprimanding a naughty child.

"He was out of control!" The Headmaster exclaimed defensively, his voice on edge.

"Perhaps you were the one out of control. All I can say is that you should never have replaced Bassano, he was a more than capable Potions Master, and raising issues with how the school is run has never led to a teacher's dismissal before, Micah." Her normally calm face was becoming flushed, as it often did when she found herself in an argument with the Headmaster.

"Let me remind you, Minerva, that it is the Headmaster's prerogative to replace any teachers that are not performing to the school's high standards."

"And let me remind you, Headmaster, that it is also your prerogative to ensure that no teachers are dangerous to the students, as Bassano's replacement most certainly is."

"Oh, come now Minerva. Graden may not have the most pristine record, but he has been found innocent of all alleged connections to the "Death Eaters", who themselves are hardly a danger to the students now that You-Know-Who is out of the way. He's been dead for decades, Minerva! It is time to stop this fear mongering within the wizarding community and choose instructors based on their credentials, not their supposed connections to a long dead dark wizard."

"Fine. If you refuse to heed my warnings, then I can do nothing but pray for the futures of our students, and our school. Good day, Micah."

With a sigh, Waldemar wiped the sweat off of his brow and laid his head down on his desk for a short rest. Nothing could spoil a good Sorting like an argument with someone who was sure they were smarter than you. And the kicker of it all was that she probably was.

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Ian examined his timetable as he quickly finished eating breakfast with Nicola. At least he had one friend in Slytherin House, even if she seemed more interested in staring longfully at the Hufflepuffs two tables over.

"Come on Nicola, it's over, you're a Slytherin, just get over it already!" Ian exclaimed as he realized once again that she was ignoring her. "Who wants to be with those duffers anyway?"

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. Her eyes were red and puffy, and it was clear she had been crying all night beforehand. "What class do we have first?"

"Potions with the Gryffindors, then Transfiguration, then Double Charms with Hufflepuff." As soon as he had said it Ian realized it was a mistake. At the sound of "Hufflepuff" Nicola's face clouded over and she started blinking back tears.

"Ian, what will my father say?" she whispered.

"I'm sure he won't mind where you ended up. Now hurry, class starts in fifteen minutes!"

Ian had to wait another ten minutes before Nicola was finally ready to head down to the Potions Dungeons, and with a jolt of embarrassment he realized that they were the last two sitting at Slytherin table, and only a few students were scattered throughout the others.

"Come on!" He exclaimed, running down the Great Hall to the stairs they had taken to Slytherin Dungeons last night. "This way!"

They took the staircase two at a time, and they pushed through the doorway to class only moments before a great bell rang through the school. Luckily the Potions classroom was several floors higher than the Slytherin Dormitories.

"Get in your seat!" A shrill voice commanded, and the two quickly collapsed into desks closest to the door. When Ian looked at the Professor, he could hardly believe the man before him was teaching in the school. His hair was grey and unkempt, while his green eyes darted around the room wildly.

"Sorry we're late Professor," Nicola apologized, but it fell on deaf ears. The Professor was ignoring her, and instead was making words appear on the blackboard behind him by flicking his wand.

"Now," the teacher said with a mild Slavic accent, his back to the class, a mixture of Gryffindors wearing red and gold, and Slytherins in green and silver. "None of you will appreciate the mysterious art of potioneering, but if you did, I am sure you would relish the chance to study it with one like myself. I learned it under the great Master Albumin, Potion Instructor at Durmstrang Institute of Sorcery."

Unlike the crazed, angry voice he had used to rebuke Ian and Nicola for being late, their teacher now spoke with a tone of reverence.

"You all have his book, yes?"

Ian joined the rest of the class as they chorused yes in reply, and he looked down at the textbook in question. It was a sturdy, brown hardcover with the title written in black.

"Practical Potions, by Igor Albumin"

"Then read it!" He shouted, and the First Years began reading the first chapter to themselves while sharing worried glances between each other. What sort of a madman was this guy?

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Sorry for the short chapter again, I really have to write a longer one sometime. Oh well, at least I got two chapters up in short order, since I had finished the previous chapter days ago. I really hate my crappy internet, you know?


	6. Student Silenced

Ian and Nicola marched up the steps out of the dungeons after Potions class, keeping entirely silent in case the Professor flew into another of his fits. Whereas the other teachers sitting at the Head Table during the Sorting had seemed dignified and respectable, the Potions Master was mad, as if he had just left Azkaban Prison.

As they settled into their seats for Transfiguration, Nicola poked her head over to Ian's desk. The students had finally broken their silence when they emerged into the Entrance Hall from the dark and damp Dungeons.

"Georgina told me that the Potions Master is new this year!" She whispered, and Ian turned to face her.

"So?"

"So, maybe he's a criminal! Or a madman!"

Their whispered conversation was interrupted as the Transfiguration teacher entered the classroom, his bald head reflecting the light from above. He was scarcely taller than the students, and a broad smile across his face gave Ian the feeling that this lesson was going to go much better than Potions.

"Welcome students! Welcome to Hogwarts!" He exclaimed, in a rather high pitched voice that reminded Ian of the muggle clown that came around once a year to entertain the children. He would inhale the helium gas from inside his balloons to make his voice higher. Apparently the Transfiguration instructor could speak like that without enhancing his voice.

"I am Professor Brill, Transfiguration Professor and Head of Hufflepuff House!" He said, his blue eyes dancing around in his sockets, looking at all his new students. "I hope that we can have a rewarding learning experience here in my class."

A titter of laughter rippled through the class. Brill seemed to prove the stereotype of Hufflepuff house as a bunch of duffers.

All the laughter stopped, however, when the teacher pulled out his wand. The students had yet to see any of their teachers perform real magic, and they were definitely excited.

"Transfiguration is, of course, the study of turning one thing into something else," Brill explained, and as he spoke his words appeared on the blackboard behind him. "Perhaps you should all copy that down."

Ian hurriedly pulled a quill out of his robes and scribbled down the teacher's words on a spare scrap of parchment.

"Allow me to demonstrate!" Brill said, flourishing his wand, and the entire class immediately dropped their quills to watch their teacher display his abilities. At first Ian didn't see what had happened, but he quickly roared with laughter when he saw that a desk near the front had been transfigured into a Shetland pony, with a student struggling to stay on top of it. He recognized the student as Ethan McCubbin, the boy he had met on the train that hadn't spoken to him at all.

Ethan's face flushed red as Professor Brill returned the desk to its original size and shape, and surreptitiously vanished a pile of steaming brown manure.

"Alright then, class," Brill squeaked. "If you would be so kind, please read the first chapter in your textbook 'Transfiguration for Beginners', and write a short essay in summary for next class."

Ian gawked. Homework on the first day? Even if it was only a short essay, there was no way he should have an assignment on his first day.

Sighing, he took his book and began to flip through the table of contents and introduction of his book before he finally came to the first chapter. He tried to take it all in as he read, but his mind wandered to the excitement of the past two days. Oh well, he thought. I'll read it tomorrow; my next Transfiguration lesson isn't until Thursday.

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Ian and Nicola stumbled into their last class of the day, Charms. Most classes were only an hour and a half, but they were slotted for two classes, with Hufflepuff no less. So far their teachers had been real characters, and Ian would not be in the least surprised if their Charms instructor was too.

He leaned over to Nicola as they waited for the teacher to arrive. "D'you know the name of the bloke who'll be teaching us?"

With a smirk, Nicola turned her head to Ian and chuckled. "The 'bloke' teaching us is a woman. Professor Opaleye Prince, I think."

Ian looked sheepish as he turned back to look at the door. The teacher was late.

Suddenly, a tall, imposing woman appeared in the middle of the room. Well, actually, her head appeared. Then her neck, and her chest, then her arms, then her legs, and finally her long black boots.

She was very tall, taller than anybody Ian had seen before in his life. She must have been nearly eight feet tall, and had great blue eyes the size of chicken's eggs. Her hair was white and pulled into a bun on top of her head which was also covered in white hair, looking for all the world as if someone had made a snowman out of her scalp.

"Greetings, class," she said, and just by looking into her eyes Ian could tell she was a very smart, very cold person. "I am Professor Prince, Head of Ravenclaw House and, obviously, your Charms Instructor. I will not tolerate insolence, nor will I tolerate ignorance. Charms are an art, and if you make even one wrong flick of your wand, you very well might find your arm flying off without you!"

Ian, who had been looking forward to what his father had described as an "easy class" was very disappointed with her speech.

"I am sure your previous classes have been merely an introduction to the subject. I am afraid that with only a year to teach you, that is simply not an option in my class, not if you want to be prepared for your exams. Therefore, I want you all to look in page eleven of your textbook, and practice the Levitating Charm on your quills. Any questions, do not hesitate to ask." And with that, the teacher proceeded to levitate a large potted plant sitting in the back of her classroom, enunciating clearly as she said the words "Wingardium Leviosa."

After gracefully allowing the plant to land on the marble floor, Professor Prince sat down in a massive chair behind an even larger desk, and began reading a book called "Challenging Charms: Enchantments for the Experts".

As he realized that he was behind the rest of the class, who had already pulled out their wands and their textbooks, Ian quickly did the same. Thankfully, he realized, nobody else had managed to get their quills to move at all, except for a disgruntled Hufflepuff across the room who had begun prodding it with the tip of his wand, and succeeded in knocking it off his desk.

Over an hour into class, only a few students had managed to levitate their quills, and Ian and gotten it to wobble a little but it remained on his desk. Professor Prince had taken to stalking around the room behind the students like a ghost, giving advice and admonitions at precisely the wrong time, making the First Years do even worse.

As time passed on and the class bored of trying again and again without getting any results, several conversations began in whispered tones near the back. At first Ian envied them for being far from the front where the chances of being caught were higher, but he realized that with Prince, no one was safe.

He turned as one of the Hufflepuffs in the back who had been caught chatting fell out of his seat, and while his mouth opened and made wide, spastic movements, no sound came out.

"The next person to talk in my class without permission will have far more than a Silencing Charm to deal with." The Professor said in a harsh voice, and Ian realized what had happened.

For the rest of the class all the students worked diligently on their Charms work, but in the end less than a quarter of the class managed to get their quills even a millimeter off of their desks.

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Professor Waldemar eyed the students in the Great Hall as they finished the evening meal, which, while nothing compared to last night's feast, was a fantastic eating experience all the same.

The Gryffindors sat nearest the Entrance Hall, each one an oddity in and of themselves. That was one thing you could always count on with Gryffindor, they were never normal, never the type to be lost in a crowd.

The next table over, the Hufflepuffs, were perhaps the exact opposite. Despite all his attempts, Waldemar simply could not find anything to admire in that House. In the end, he had to admit that they were simply what was left. Of course there was the occasional exception, a Hufflepuff who definitely earned their stripes. One such student, or former student, was Opaleye, who now sat beside the Headmaster at the Head Table. She was definitely not a "duffer".

If Waldemar were the sorting hat, she would have been in Ravenclaw, the table beside Hufflepuff. They were smart and calculating, lovers of the intellectual principles like Transfiguration and Ancient Runes. Ah, how he loved Ravenclaw. It had been his own house, filled with kindred spirits.

And then there was Slytherin. They were probably the closest in personality to Ravenclaw, yet at the same time worlds apart. Whereas Ravenclaw valued 'wit beyond measure' above all else, members of Salazar Slytherin's house valued their own best interests.

But that was what made the school unique! All the different characters in it. All the different personalities, each with an entire house devoted to it.

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Yet another pathetically short chapter. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! (


	7. Board of Governors

A/N: I've decided that this fic takes place approximately 85 years from the events of Deathly Hallows' Epilogue, or 100 years after Harry's birth. Also, y'all had better get in gear and start reviewing, or else I'll… (Insert something frightening here).

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The next morning Ian made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor for his first class of the day. Hopefully it would go better than his previous ones.

He had lost Nicola in the crowd pouring out of the Great Hall, so he was on his own as he walked through the door. This classroom was different than all the others he had been in. Whereas the Potions Dungeon was dark and dirty, and Transfiguration and Charms classrooms were spotless and bright, this class was filled with animals in cages along the wall and had what looked like dummies suspended from the roof by chains.

In the middle of the class stood Professor Worme, the man who had welcomed them to the castle and called them out for Sorting. His long black hair was tied into a ponytail behind his back, and Ian noticed that it reached nearly to his waist.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts is not like any class you have taken so far," Worme told them as he eyed the class up and down with his piercing, green eyes. "We will not be studying any particular principle of magic, but rather how to use those principles. The Dark Arts are very powerful, and to underestimate them will lead to your downfall, of that I can assure you."

He divided the class into groups of two, and Ian found paired with a boy whose name escaped him at the moment, but he was sure he knew it in the back of his mind. The boy was blond with brown eyes, and a long, pointed nose that reminded Ian of a toucan.

"Once you are in your groups we will be practicing the Disarming spell. I will demonstrate." The Professor explained, looking around the room to ensure that everyone had followed his instructions up to that point.

Worme then turned to face one of the dummies hanging from the roof, pointed his wand at it and exclaimed "Expelliarmus!"

A wooden stick that had been attached to the dummie's hand as if it were a wand flew out, hitting the far wall and snapping into two pieces. Ian, who had been glancing around the room at all the animals, turned his attention instead to the display their teacher had just done. THAT was the kind of magic he wanted to do.

"You may begin. The directions are on page 7 of the 'Standard Book of Spells, Level 1.'"

Ian and his partner stood several feet away from each other and raised their wands, each taking it in turn to attempt to disarm the other. At first neither could do more than shoot sparks from the end of their wand, but on the fourth try Ian's partner managed to expel his wand from his hand.

Surprised, Ian fell down and scrambled to stand up, while his partner laughed at him and the rest of the class turned to watch. Apparently he was the first to be disarmed.

Worme offered a smile to Ian's partner, or perhaps it was a sneer directed at Ian himself.

"Well, get up and try again."

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Ian trudged out of the castle doors and across the grounds to the green houses for Herbology. He was flanked on the right side by his partner in Defence, who, he'd since learned, was named Anthony, and although by the end of the class Anthony had disarmed Ian a total of seven times compared to Ian's single success, they had become fast friends.

"How about Worme, eh?" Anthony said as they made their way down the stone path. "What a head case."

"Yeah," Ian agreed, glad he had made a new friend in Slytherin House, since Nicola seemed to be with Georgina Avery every minute of the day. "Still, better than Bones."

"I don't know, he was sort of interesting at least. I wonder what Potts will be like."

"Potts?" Ian asked, confused.

"Professor Potts, the Herbology instructor. He's also the Head of Gryffindor, though, so I doubt things will go well." Anthony explained.

"How do you know all of this?" Ian queried, wondering why his housemate knew so much more about the teachers than he did himself.

"My grandfather is a school Governor, so the I know most of the teachers."

As they entered the greenhouse they had to close their eyes to keep out the vapour. The inside of the building was hot and steamy, with hundreds of plants filling the inside of it. Ian couldn't help noticing that one of the plants seemed to be eating a small bird.

Anthony's blond hair, which had been slicked back around his skull tightly, was now loose and damp from the humidity. Ian eyed Nicola across the room, her own hair frizzy.

"Hello students! I'm Professor Pius Potts, Herbology Instructor." The teacher said waving at the class. His hair was brown, and his skin had the colour and texture of tree bark, weathered and old. His eyes, however, were green and full of life as they darted around the class, looking up and down each of the students.

After introduction, Professor Potts had the class split into groups of two and transfer small, prickly plants from one pile of earth to another. As it turned out, he was friendly and easy-going, easily the nicest of the teachers they had encountered so far. However, as they left the greenhouses at the end of class Ian had the distinct feeling that Potts wasn't all there.

"Oh yeah," Anthony said when Ian shared this thought with him. "He seems completely bonkers to me. What class do we have next, anyway?"

Er, let me check," Ian said, pulling a schedule from his bag. "Uh, History of Magic."

"Ugh, that sounds dull!" Anthony said, disappointed, as they reentered the castle.

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Waldemar sat at his desk in his office, leisurely leafing through an old, heavy book with yellowed pages. He easily deciphered the Ancient Runes in which it was written, he had gotten Outstanding on both his OWL and NEWT level Ancient Runes exam. Then again, he had gotten O's in all his classes at both levels, except for that pesky Muggle Studies, he'd only barely passed the OWL and refused to go on at NEWT level.

"Micah!"

Sighing, the Headmaster closed the book. He was not in the mood for another conversation, or rather, another argument with Minerva.

"What is it?" he snapped, already angry.

"I was just in my portrait in Gryffindor Common Room, and out of the window I saw the board of Governors coming up the way to see you."

"Relieved that he was not going to be verbally jousting with the ex-Headmaster, Waldemar thanked her and rushed out of his office to meet the Governors. While their arrival couldn't be good, it was better than debating his latest staff appointment with the former Head of Gryffindor.

As he marched down the corridor towards the Entrance Hall, he was met by several teachers telling him that "the Board of Governors is here to see you".

He met them as Sergius was taking their cloaks, and cordially led them into his office for a meeting. He could tell by the look on Scorpius Malfoy's face that this was not going to go well, not well at all.

"So, Mister Malfoy, what can I do for you?" Waldemar asked, trying his best to smile but finding it very strained. The man's white hair was thin and combed back to look as if his skull was protruding through his skin.

The wizened old man replied with a scowl. "I've been on this board for over fifty years for the reign of three different Headmasters, and never have I seen such blatant disregard for student's safety!"

"I-I am afraid that I am not quite sure what it is you mean?" Waldemar replied, his false smile gone.

"Oh, come now Micah!" Another Governor exclaimed. "Don't play the fool."

"I assure you, Mister Macmillan, that I am not 'playing' anything."

"I will not stand idly by while my grandson is being taught by an ex-convict!" Malfoy bristled.

"If you mean Bones, he was cleared of all charges and released from Azkaban with a FULL apology." Waldemar yelled, exasperated at the situation. Everyone seemed to be against him on this!

"The Wizengamot was only one vote away from the two third needed to lock him away for life! He got away on a technicality!" Malfoy replied, now nose to nose with the Headmaster. Both men were too old for this sort of thing, each over a hundred years old.

"He wasn't convicted, that's what matters. And what's more, he's a darn good Potioneer!" Waldemar yelled, his face beet red.

Scorpius Malfoy was shaking with fury, but he managed to calm himself down, and reply coldly. "Either he loses his job, Headmaster, or you do."

Minerva couldn't help but give a small smile as the Governors trooped out of Waldemar's office.

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A/N: Sorry for another short chapter.


	8. The Night Before

A/n: Sorry for the super short chapter, especially after the long wait. I was away camping for a week, and then my computer was out of order for another, so I figured I'd better just post what I have so far, so you don't think I'm dead or something.

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"I understand that most of you will not enjoy my class, nor will you pay it the respect it deserves. Because there is no waving of wands or mixing of ingredients, you will no doubt find it dull and useless. However, only those thoroughly educated in our history can expect to avoid making the same mistakes as the wizards who came before us."

Professor Sands, as the History of Magic Teacher had introduced himself, stalked up and down the long, narrow classroom like a snake in his green robes, his long neck stretched straight out.

"However, I will demand a passing grade out of each of you, or the results may be… unpleasant."

Sands' voice was cold, and Ian had no doubts in his mind that things would be "unpleasant" if he failed. He seemed disgusted with the entire class as he made his way back to the front of the class.

"I expect that none of you bothered to open your texts before class began." The teacher said, and Ian noticed that even his skin had a slight greenish tinge to it. In fact, the only thing about him that wasn't green was his hair. While the top of his head was bald and shining, the sides of his scalp were covered in thick, brown hair and fell into a long ponytail in the back.

"Well?" He uttered, glaring at the students who were all obviously as bewildered by his appearance as Ian was.

Quickly the First Years flipped open their books, "A History of Magic, Edition III: Bathilda Bagshot, Revised by Rose Weasley".

The first class of History of Magic was not at all dull, and Ian found himself actually enjoying it. While he had at first been wary of Sands, he was an excellent History teacher, whatever other faults he had.

His voice would rise and fall as he went on about the First Goblin Rebellion, and he described it with such detail and such passion that Ian couldn't help but feel as if he had really been there when Kronug the Eleventh stabbed twelve Scottish Wizards with a tree branch, or when Wolfric the Wise cast the goblins deep into Kronug's Cave.

He was so enthralled that he only barely noticed when Professor Sands snapped shut his own copy of the text book and told them in an articulate and cold voice to go to their next class.

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Scorpius Malfoy collapsed into his chair when he returned to his sprawling country estate, and wiped the sweat off of his wrinkled brow with a monogrammed handkerchief.

With any luck, the Headmaster would heed his warnings and dismiss that freak of a teacher. But if he didn't…

Scorpius remembered the events of last night as if they were going on around him right then. He could still see that… man… bursting out of his fireplace. He could still hear his threats. He didn't think he would ever forget it. The memories bubbled up against his will as if it was happening right before his eyes.

He could still remember what the man had said after stepping out of his fireplace:

"Hello, father."

Scorpius' son was tall, and had inherited the same angular features that Scorpius had received from his own father, even if he hadn't inherited Scorpius' surname.

"Octavius?" Scorpius had gasped in surprise. He hadn't seen his son in years, not since he had departed from Malfoy Manor on his seventeenth birthday, the same year he had dropped out of Hogwarts School to study abroad, God knows where.

"Oh yes, dearest dad." Octavius and replied, his thin mouth shaping the words even though they seemed to come from all around the comfortably furnished sitting room. "I'm back."

That was when Scorpius had broken into a cold sweat. Octavius had always had an unhealthy interest in the Dark Arts, even if the Malfoy Family and sworn off all black magic after Voldemort's final defeat. His father, Draco, had even sponsored programs to attempt to rid Britain of all Dark Arts, and Scorpius had followed in his tradition. Which was not to say that their family was completely honest in their business dealings, but they were well within the realm of the merely illegal, and not actually evil.

Octavius had drawn his long, black wand seemingly out of nowhere, and without him seeing him do it he had pointed it at Scorpius' face.

"What, aren't you happy to see me?" He asked, a thin, mocking smile playing with his already stretched features.

"What do you want with me?" Malfoy whispered, his voice only barely escaping his chest.

"Oh, nothing major. I don't need your soul or anything THAT dramatic. Just your galleons." Octavius told him, smirking. Octavius must have been learning Legilimency in his time away, for Scorpius had indeed been afraid that his son would need his soul for some reason or another.

"You're just a THIEF?" Scorpius exclaimed in surprise.

"I wouldn't say that. My plans are indeed a tad more grandeur than that, but for now all I'll need is gold. Lots of it."

With a flash, Scorpius had his own wand out and was pointing it at the uninvited man in his sitting room. He may have been old, but he was still quick and a powerful wizard.

"Why would I give it to you?"

"Because, father, things will be very unfortunate for our dear little Anthony if you don't."

"A-Anthony?" Scorpius spluttered. "B-But, he's in Hogwarts! You can't touch him there."

Octavius laughed out loud at his father's futile attempt to act confident. The blood had already rushed to his face, and he looked about ready to collapse.

"Oh, I know that." Octavius said calmly, as if discussing the weather. "But he can."

As he said this, another figure burst from the fireplace. Unlike Octavius, this one was completely unkempt. His hair was grey and wild, and he had crazed green eyes. Scorpius recognized this face as well. He had been at the castle when Waldemar was escorting him to his dungeons.

It was Bones, the Potion Master.

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Finally, Scorpius managed to get his own memories under control. Well, he had done his best to get Bones fired, and if he wasn't then he would have to take more drastic action.


End file.
